In the attempt to both put Australia on the map and make sure only the good stuff gets on the export ship, the Kingblind Sydney office presents Oz Rock 101, a bi-weekly heads up on the best Australian bands you may never hear. In this space we’ll be focusing on the contemporaries, the locals, the ones that deserve your attention. Some you may already know, some you may not, but one thing is for sure: all, you will love. Well hopefully…

The Fauves

There are a few misconceptions about The Fauves, and surprisingly none of them revolve around them being a French fine art movement of early 20th Century, but then again few people genuinely thought the late Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand had risen from the dead to record possibly the best album of the year. No, the biggest confusion about Mornington Victoria’s fab-four The Fauves is that they are a “joke” band. You know, a bit like Ween or They Might Be Giants. Yeah sure, they rock and all but “man is did he just say his doctor is a worm? Is that a joke dude? I’m not really sure, guess I better stick to the safe havens of MBV or Interpol” etc etc. Since day one The Fauves have fallen slap bang into this somewhat volatile and fair-weather grey area of indie rock, and to this day no one is sure if they like living there at all. Over the course of fourteen years, they’ve released seven albums (as of July the 5th!), played pretty much every pub, club and venue in Australia, and have largely made nary a dent on the charts or their bank accounts. Ironically, as a band The Fauves are the quintessential Aussie battler, the exact persona that has given lyrical and musical genius Andrew Cox so much ammo over their career. Through an armory of thematical classics, Coxy and co have consistently hit the nail right on the head when it comes to Australian middle class life, with an attention to detail that even locals don’t possess. The Fauves construct a world of bronzed Aussie’s in Speedos, milk arrowroot biscuits, pissed yobs kickin’ after an arvo at the footy, the sad ambivalence of a nation unable and uninterested in deciding on it’s own national identity, the sporting and cultural significance of the medium pace bowler (look up cricket if you’re from the States. In fact, you might have had trouble with most of that sentence if you’re not Australian). Unfortunately for some, as such topics are delivered with a healthy dash of humor along with a chunky melodic pop/rock backdrop, the “joke band” tag swiftly brushes the real genius past many an un-inquiring mind. We suggest you look a little harder. If you really want to peer down the looking glass into the psyche of the Australian culture, you could do worse than pick up a Fauves record. Plus they make bonza ashtrays. (By: Chris Deal)